I'm not able to see the future,

And that terrifies me.

I cannot tell where I am going, where I will end, or even where I am now-

I just know it's not a good place.

I'm holding my breath.

Waiting for the future,

Surviving in the present,

And forgetting about the past.

I'm suffocating.

My world is black and blue,

Darker than a bruise and more deadly than a knife.

I'm not sure how much fight is left in me,

I just know it's not enough to last my whole life, if that's all my life is.

I'm losing my breath.

It whistles through my teeth

As the sacred molecules slip away.

My life force is ebbing-

I was not built to last.

I am a seasonal home, where seasons never repeat.

I am nonrenewable- I can never be salvaged.

I am lost- never to be found.

…and that terrifies me.

Something familiar: You. You are melancholy wind blowing. Leaves fall to the ground with your touch that tickles me like pine needles. You speak my history in your foreign inaudible language. With blue eyes sealed with sap, you see all of me. I strip. Worn. And used. An orchestrated reunion of past lives celebrating, your deep touch bruises my weathered flesh and drains my lonely soul. Floating. You drink me, and I swim in your aged body. Or do I drown? I hate the addiction, I am emptied by the stale tears wrenched from a teased heart. Longing with desire, my pulse is weakened by poisoned comfort. And Hate walks heel to toe on a frayed tightrope next to Love. And so, I don't look down. I am breathless.

Teetering on the formidable brink of spontaneous emotional weight, I venture forward into the unknown trauma which is lurking in wait for me. A warning is flashing in red “STOP STOP STOP – dangerous beyond this point”. Disregarding the alarm flashing in my head, I hold my breath and jump off the cliff dreading to discover what is at the bottom. I land in murky water teeming with  apathy, depression, anxiety and fear. I feel completely bogged down by the muddy morass of indecision. I am sinking, saddled with the ballast of my past pulling me down into the great unknown. Even though I struggle to maintain my equilibrium I am completely out of breath, fading into a kind, caressing oblivion. This is the last thing I remember before I cease to exist.

Don't come to me if you're going to joke about your stress with the phrase

God I'm totally just going to hang myself.

Don't come to me if you're going to joke about your mistakes with the words

I should just kill myself.

Clearly, you don't know the feeling of choking on too little air.

Clearly, you have no clue what tears taste like after they've been rolling past your parted lips and onto your parched tongue every night.

Clearly, you don't know the meaning of those words.

It's not funny.

It's not cute.

You'll get no sympathy from me.

Because let me be the first to tell you,

To many, those thoughts come with each breath.

And to many, the only way to stop those thoughts,

Is to stop the breath.

Insomnia plagues me. I roll over once more and try counting sheep. One...two...three... The cloud-like animals blur behind my closed eyes and morph themselves into all of my insecurities and fears. I grit my teeth in frustration, holding back a scream of utter annoyance and anger. I roll onto my back, recognizing my fatal mistake only as the pillow is shoved into my face. I thrash and kick but a strong arm holds me down. The fluff crushes my nose and shoves lips against teeth. My death is slow. I am not even awarded the luxury of a final breath.